


Drapunzel

by muuffiin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Crushing, Boys Kissing, Crack-ish, Draco is Rapunzel, Fluff, HP: EWE, Harry is Flynn, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muuffiin/pseuds/muuffiin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco is forced to take Muggle Studies and Harry Potter is in the same class, they end up having to put on a play on Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drapunzel

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I publish a fic and Idk if I'm happy with it. I hope you all like it. It's based upon an image I saw on facebook ( https://scontent-a-dfw.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/t1.0-9/q71/s720x720/1601266_300269300128285_3769870394341273914_n.jpg ) and it's a beautiful drawing!  
> Also, this was a bit longer than I expected it to be, so bear with me.
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy or his frog (get it?)
> 
> I really hope you like it! Also, people might seem OCC and I'm really sorry about that :(
> 
> Ps. This isn't beta-d so any mistakes are my own!

“A year of probation Mister Malfoy, and you will be going back to Hogwarts to complete your NEWTS, with Muggle Studies as an obligatory class for you. You are being given a second chance, do not waste it.”

Draco could barely hear the verdict through the pounding in his ears. For weeks now, all he had thought about was this day. He’d lived those past few weeks as if they were the last in his life, being so sure he’d be sentenced to Azkaban without a second thought that he hadn’t wanted to waste his last few days of freedom and life. He’d never imagined Harry Potter showing up to his trial, defending Draco and convincing the whole Wizengamot (not that he had to try very hard, he _was_ Harry Potter for Merlin’s sake) that Draco didn’t deserve Azkaban.

 He honestly had not expected to be forgiven so easily.

Going back to Hogwarts would be a bit of a nightmare, yes, but it wouldn’t be even half as bad as Azkaban would have been. He’s sure he wouldn’t be welcomed back with open arms, but it would be better than being behind bars and being surrounded by Dementors.

A flurry of movement in front of him breaks Draco’s trance. He finds himself sitting stiffly in a chair in the middle of a quickly emptying room, as all the Wizengamot seemed in a hurry to leave the room. He thinks they probably weren’t happy with their decision, with the dirty looks some of them are shooting at him, he couldn’t imagine they wanted him to be free to walk around the world. However, he thinks they would want Harry Potter’s wrath directed at them even less, and considering the way Potter had defended Draco, he truly wanted to believe that Potter would be angry if Draco’s verdict had been any different. 

Speaking of Potter, Draco should thank him! He suddenly scrambles to his feet, looking around and around to see if he caught sight of emerald green eyes and dark hair and round spectacles. Just as he was starting to panic, he saw Potter’s robes disappearing right through the door and he bolted to it.

“Potter! Potter!” He runs after him, through the doorway and into the dark corridor. “Wait!”

Potter stops at the foot of the stairs at the end of the corridor and looks back with a confused look on his face. When he finally understands the scene in front of him – a flushed Draco running after him without an ounce of dignity – he shifts his weight and adopts a slightly uncomfortable look on his face, but stays put.

“Yes, Malfoy?” Harry asks stiffly, politely, and not at all Potter-ish. This confuses Draco slightly, not understanding why Potter was suddenly so uncomfortable around him and why he would save Draco when he didn’t want him around, but he wouldn’t let himself be put off from what he was going to do, he needed Potter to understand just exactly how grateful he was.

He stops running when he finally reaches Potter and stands in front of him, his chest heaving and his hair all over the place, his cheeks flushed and his breath coming in pants. Potter looks him in the eye, trapping Draco in with his gaze, which is much more intelligent than Draco remembered and, therefore, a lot more intimidating.

He tries to speak, but the green gaze of the young man standing in front of him does something to his insides, making the words catch in his throat. He produces a strange gurgling sound that has Potter looking alarmed and reaching out for him immediately. Having Potter’s hands on his arms, however, only makes it worse. The gurgling sound Draco had produced suddenly became a high-pitched whine. Potter looks even more worried.

“Malfoy? Draco? Are you ok? What’s the matter?” Potter’s voice is urgent and his eyes roam over Draco’s body, as if trying to ascertain that he hadn’t been suddenly injured by an invisible something or the other. “Are you dying? What’s wrong?”

Draco shakes his head and pulls away from Potter, his hands going up to rub at his temples, trying to rub away an impending headache. Surely that was why he was being so weird around Potter? The shock was getting to him, yes, that was it.

“Um… Sorry, sorry,” Draco mutters, pulling himself back together and standing up straight. “Minor headache, is all, I think it might be the shock.” He looks straight into Potter’s eyes again, willing the weird feeling in his stomach to calm down and stop so he could concentrate on thanking Potter.

Just as he was preparing to talk; the words building up inside of him in a much more concrete way than before and bubbling up to the surface, just inside his throat and ready to be formed with his tongue and lips and voice and everything, Potter interrupts him.

“Shock?” He asks, looking confused. “Why are you shocked?”

Draco dawdles for a moment, wondering if he should tell Potter. In the end, after careful consideration from his part, he decides Potter deserves to know, having been what gave Draco his life back in the first place.

“Because I just got a second chance at life that I didn’t think I would get,” he starts quietly, losing eye contact and slumping a tiny bit. The floor really was very, very interesting. “Because I have lived the past few weeks of my life thinking they were the last life I’d ever get. Because I couldn’t imagine what could save me from that future, and would have never expected you to be it. Because, Potter, you just gave me something I didn’t deserve, and I will show you every day for the rest of my life how grateful I am that you’ve trusted me enough to not put me behind bars forever.”

His voice had become smaller and smaller as his speech progressed, the last bit of it being barely more than a whisper. He was glad though, since the speech had gone in a direction that Draco had not expected and he had said things did not particularly want Potter to know. When he looks up, however, the look in Potter’s eyes tells him that his speech had been heard and assimilated, and his cheeks burn with shame. How could he explain to Potter, perfect Potter, that he had done something that Draco considered he didn’t even deserve?

“Malfoy… Draco… I-“

Draco cuts him off.

“Look, Potter, I just wanted to say ‘thank you’ and have you know that I'm entirely sincere,” he says quickly, his loud voice drowning out Potter’s, “I’ll see you on the train.”

He turns and quickly runs up the stairs, not wanting to be in Potter’s presence for another second. Being near Potter, knowing that he ows the man everything he would ever have from this moment on, was doing weird things to him, like making him be honest and making his stomach flutter uncomfortably. He had to get away, after all, Potter probably didn’t even want to be his friend and had just saved him to repay Draco’s mother the help she’d given him during the war. Potter probably didn’t even want to see him ever again.

He wonders why that thought made him feel as if his heart was crumbling to pieces.

  

* * *

  

Draco had thought that’d be the last time he saw Harry Potter. Sure, he thought he’d be seeing his face in the Daily Prophet for the rest of _forever_ , and Witch Weekly was sure to dedicate him issues every now and then, but he had expected to never come face to face with the Great Saviour ever again. He didn’t think that he’d see him in two weeks’ time, sitting calmly at the Gryffindor table during the Sorting Ceremony and wearing school robes. 

Draco sits between Pansy and Blaise, and he’s surprised they’ve come back to Hogwarts with him. In the end, he realizes none of them have got anywhere to go, and that coming to school was the best option any of them had. He’s pleasantly surprised, after all, this means he won’t be spending his days alone because at least two of his friends have come back with him, even if the relationship feels slightly strained.

“Pass the salt please, Draco,” Pansy mumbles next to him, and before he can reach for it, Blaise is handing it to Pansy quietly. She nods, says “thank you” and then turns back to her plate, quieter than he ever remembers her being, and he hopes this awkwardness will disappear quickly because otherwise it’ll be a long, _long_ year.

After the Ceremony comes the Feast, and with it food Draco had never thought he’d miss but he did. Hogwarts is half a home, in any case, even if he’d never realized it before. He thinks he started feeling this way when he started feeling more comfortable in a dorm room than at his home, where pressure would build up and crush him on a daily basis. Even though he misses his mum, and his dad even if it’s slightly – or maybe more than slightly – less, he’s happy to be here because it reminds him that he’s been offered a second chance, and he’s going to do his best to make up for everything he did.

He’s reaching for the mashed potatoes and feels a gaze burning into him. It’s strange, with all the stares and glares he’d been getting lately, one would think he’d forgotten how it felt when you knew you were being watched; but he hasn’t forgotten, apparently, because he looks up to find Harry Potter’s eyes trained unwaveringly on him. He’s reminded of sixth year, when everywhere he could look was filled with green eyes fixed on him, glaring and suspicious, but he realizes the gaze is slightly different this time, less angry and more thoughtful. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but he can’t look away. Finally, Granger breaks Potter’s concentration, he turns to her and, without those eyes focused on him, Draco can breathe again.

He tries not to cry later that night, in bed, sleepy and full. He’s done enough crying for a lifetime the past few months, and he’s tired of feeling sad and hopeless. He’s starting over and second chances are about renewing hope and happiness and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He doesn’t go to sleep with a smile, but he doesn’t cry until he’s passed out, so he counts it as a win and as a step forwards.

He dreams of green. Green eyes and green spells. Green snakes, green bedcovers; green everything. When he wakes up in the morning, he’s confused to find Blaise over him and not being green.

“Draco, it’s time for breakfast,” Blaise says, smiling softly at how confused and childish Draco always looks when he wakes up. Draco scowls when he realizes what Blaise is thinking, having been told many times by his friends that he still looks like he’s three when he’s just woken up, and Blaise laughs at the expression. Draco realizes in that moment that they’re going to be ok, all of them, and he smiles.

 

* * *

 

They sit down for breakfast; Pansy and Blaise sit down in front of Draco and offer him soft smiles. Draco has to fight with himself to stop a huge grin from appearing, it wouldn’t be very Slytherin-ish to grin like a fool during breakfast, but he knows they see right through him. He’s happy that their friendship hasn’t suffered as much as he’d thought yesterday night. 

Yesterday, he’d thought that the damage that had been done by a summer of silence and two years of lying and deceiving would be irreparable. He realizes that they’ve been just as affected by him because of the war, even if their roles in it weren’t as important as his. He realizes they understand that what he went through wasn’t easy and that they’re willing to stay by his side. He realises that the friendships he’d thought so little of before now mean the world to him, because it means that not everyone hates him and that maybe he has a chance to do something worth something with his second chance.

“How was your summer, Pansy?” Draco asks the girl, posh drawl to full effect, reaching out and serving himself a cup of coffee. Pansy smirks at him and Blaise snorts and shakes his head.

“Is that what we’re going to do?” Blaise replies, lips pursing with amusement. “Pretend everything is _normal_?” 

“I don’t know what you mean, Blaise. I just wanted to know how my dear friend’s summer was,” Draco sits up straight, falling back into his old snobby persona. “There’s no need to get jealous, I’ll ask you as soon as I’m done with her. Ladies first, after all.”

 Pansy giggles and aims a light kick at Draco’s foot, which is received with a mischievous smile sent over the rim of a coffee cup. Blaise, however, looks unimpressed; his dark eyebrow is poised high on his forehead, head cocked lightly to the side. 

Draco bats his eyelashes at him, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. He’s well on his way onto smiling in a dumbly sweet way when he hears a snort from Blaise and he feels triumphant. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to continue the conversation though, Professor Slughorn appears behind his friends.

“I’ve got your timetables right here, Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson and Mister Zabini, ” he says to the three of them, voice slightly muffled because he’s speaking from behind a stack of papers that he’s carrying around on his huge belly. “Breakfast ends in twenty minutes, so don’t be late.”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco smiles politely at the Professor while taking all three timetables in his hand and offering Pansy and Blaise their own. They take them with soft ‘thank you’s and immediately bury their noses in them, comparing. Draco’s the only one still paying attention to Professor Slughorn.

The man looks as if he wants to say something, inhaling sharply and opening his mouth, but no words come out. He stops, shakes his head, and offers Draco a curt nod before walking off, not before murmuring: “You’re welcome. 

The man waddles off and Draco resists from comparing him to a huge walrus. One of the things he’s planned on changing about himself is to stop talking about people behind their backs, especially if there’s no reason to except to criticize them. It’s harder than he thought.

 

* * *

 

It seems everyone is being forced to take Muggle Studies this year, or at least, that’s how it feels. Draco arrives 5 minutes before the class is supposed to start and there’s only one empty seat at the very front. He sighs heavily and then he moves towards it and places his things down, he sits and takes a deep breath, he turns to see who’s sitting by his side and –

“Potter?”

What is he even doing here? Did he not grow up with muggles? Why on Earth is he sitting there next to Draco?

“Hullo Malfoy,” Potter replies pleasantly, glancing at him and smiling quickly.

“What are you _doing_ here?” He hisses agitatedly. He’s had more than enough classes with Potter today, but he hasn’t been forced to interact with him in any of them. It completely escapes his mind that no one’s forcing him to talk to Potter right now, that he’s talking to Potter with his own free will.

“Muggle Studies. I’m taking it this year,” Potter grins even wider and Draco can’t explain the feeling of complete dread that washes over him. He slumps back in his seat, trying hard to not seem like he’s freaking out. Surprisingly – or unsurprisingly, really, he’s very good at hiding his feelings – no one realizes he’s having a breakdown in the middle of the room.

He’s grateful when the teacher comes into the room and starts talking, introducing herself as Professor Agnes Mendoza. She’s very tall and very thin, with long, blonde hair and with heavy makeup. She’s not bad looking, even though he knows women are not his style. His gratefulness dissolves when the teacher all but simpers Potter’s name when she realizes he’s in her class and realizes this is going to be a very long year. He doesn’t realize Harry grimaces as if in agreement with his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

They’ve barely been two weeks at school when, one Monday when they’re talking about Muggle holidays, Draco accidentally participates during Muggle Studies.

“They celebrate _Halloween_? And _Christmas_?” Draco is dubious, it seems too... Not different. He was brought up thinking that muggles were something from another planet completely, it seems bizarre to think that he might have something in common with them.

“Yes they do, maybe not in the same way we do, but they do,” Professor Mendoza replies calmly, not at all bothered by Draco’s utterly bewildered tone.

“But that’s so… Normal,” Draco mutters quietly, so quietly, in fact, that the teacher doesn’t hear him, but Potter does.

“They dress up, for Halloween,” Potter offers pleasantly, in a voice much too loud. So loud, in fact, that the teacher turns back to them immediately, honestly though, Draco thinks that the teacher would turn back towards them if Potter so much as breathed a little too loudly. He tried not to snort with amusement, but, quite frankly, the teacher’s obsession with Potter was a bit disturbing 

“That’s right, Mister Potter!” She says excitedly, and Potter and Draco both roll their eyes, even if they don’t notice the other doing so. “They dress up as anything and everything: witches, werewolves, ghosts, etcetera etcetera!” She adds excitedly at the end, marking off each of the costumes with her fingers and flapping her hands about at the end. 

“How do they even dress up as _witches_?” Draco asks, horrified. Maybe the Statute of Secrecy has been broken! Has it all been a sham, after all this time?

“They tend to paint their skin green,” Potter starts, snickering a bit as he speaks, “and they put on these huge fake noses that are covered with warts. Maybe use a gray wig, and they carry around brooms.”

“What? Why?” It isn’t like Draco to get offended about little things – ok, maybe it is but that’s a story for another time – but he feels extremely indignant that muggles think of them as gross half-ogres or something.

Potter shrugs.

“They’ve never seen a witch,” he replies calmly, as if he hadn’t just told Draco that thousands of… people… think of him as a green-skinned, wart-covered dunce. “They’re just going off on the stories that witches are mean and scary and stuff. You used to think of them as stupid pigs, it’s fair that they think of you as a green, scary, human-looking thing.”

“That’s right Mister Potter!” Professor Mendoza adds, and Draco startles. He’d forgotten they were in class, and that they were actually supposed to be learning something. He has learned something though: muggles are meaner than he thought. “In fact, this discussion just gave me a marvelous idea.”

The entire class groans, even Potter, but Mendoza’s sparkling eyes don’t sparkle any less; in fact, they seem to shine brighter.

“Let’s dress up for Halloween! Just like muggles!” The teacher starts excitedly, hands clasping at chest level. She looks ready to start floating with happiness at the idea and Draco wonders, for the first time, if she’s actually a muggleborn. “In fact, let’s do a play!”

“A play?” Potter asks, looking confused, and that’s enough to confuse Draco. Usually, Potter breezes through this class as if he already knew everything – he probably did though, having grown up with muggles – and the fact that not even he could see the logic behind the teacher’s thoughts was a bit unsettling.

“Yes! A play! I’ll ask the Headmistress if we can put it on for everyone on Halloween! And I have just the one!” She pulls out her wand and does a series of complicated movements that looks like she’s trying to fly like a chicken and makes Draco fear for his eyes. “We’re watching a movie and it’ll be our Halloween play!”

Draco perks up. Ever since he watched his first movie a week ago; he’s thought of them as fascinating things, even if he won’t admit it. He also won’t admit that he’d been unable to look away from the screen – or close his mouth – throughout the whole thing. And if Potter even thinks of telling anyone about how “starstruck” (Potter’s words, not his) he’d looked, he was going to punch him in the face until his nose fell off.

“Um… Professor?” Draco turns to see a scared-looking petite girl who sits at the back raising her hand. “What movie are we watching?”

Professor Mendoza’s huge smile and wide eyes make her look slightly deranged, and Draco thinks he understands why Muggles think of witches as half-ogres if they’d come across a witch that looks like she does at that moment.

“It’s called ‘Tangled’, and you’ll absolutely love it. Auditions are on Thursday.”

 

* * *

 

“And at last I see the light –“

“Eugene!”

“All right, Blondie.”

“… frankly, I’m too scared to ask about the frog.”

When Draco enters the classroom on Thursday, it’s chaos. People are running all over the place, trying on costumes and running lines over and over. He thinks he even sees someone trying to transfigure a pot into a chameleon, and then someone running away from a four-footed green thing that keeps trying to eat her arm.

Someone transfigured the desks into a stage at the front of the classroom, probably Professor Mendoza, considering the abysmal attempts at transfiguration going on in multiple points of the classroom. The chairs are lined up in front of it, with people already sitting on them, anxiously waiting for the auditions to begin. Everything is disorganized, but Professor Mendoza beams from her chair – a red cloth one that’s so close to the stage it’s basically on it – so Draco thinks she doesn’t really mind.

“Who’re you auditioning for, then?” Potter’s voice comes out of nowhere, and it’s _right at his ear_ , and Draco jumps, startled. He turns around to glare at Potter, arms crossed.

“What do _you_ care?” He tells Potter angrily, forgetting for a second that he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to fight with Potter anymore. After all, he owed him more than everybody else in the Wizarding World; his life _and_ his freedom.

“I’m auditioning for Flynn, myself,” Potter comments, hands clasped behind his back and rocking back and forth on his feet. “Think I’d make a good Flynn, what about you?" 

Draco wonders for around five seconds why the fuck Potter’s trying to make conversation with him when Potter’s words catch up with his brain and he’s suddenly furious that Potter’s auditioning for _his_ role. 

“Flynn? You’re auditioning for _Flynn_?”

“Problem?” Potter’s eyes are sparkling in a way that Draco had never noticed before, but something inside him flutters when he finally noticed. Potter’s baiting into a fight, he realizes that, and he also realizes that he has to leave _now_ before he gets into trouble. With a sniff that’s a lot snobbier than what he aimed for, he turns around and stalks away.

He doesn’t see Potter staring after him forlornly.

 

* * *

 

When it’s finally Draco’s turn on the stage, he’s feeling fairly confident that he’ll get the part. He never realized before, but wizards _suck_ at acting. The first boy had been stiffer than a Petrificus Totalus’d statue, the second one had moved so jerkily his wand had flown out of his sleeve and hit a girl in the eye, and the third one had sung worse than the Fat Lady (yes, he’d heard her sing sometimes when she got drunk and paraded the castle with her friend Violet) at 3 in the morning. All in all, Draco’s a shoe-in for this role. 

“Break a leg,” he hears before he’s called out to the stage, and he turns to see Potter standing there smiling at him.

“Bugger off,” Draco whispers harshly, pushing Potter slightly. Potter beams, then turns away.

“There’s the Draco I know,” Potter mutters with a smile, and then he leaves. Draco is extremely confused by the statement, but he shakes it off. He has no time to wonder about what Potter could have meant by that extremely bizarre statement. 

He moves to the center of the stage confidently, knowing that confidence is key, if you believe in yourself, others believe in you automatically, dumb sheep that they were. He stands at the center of the stage and smiles charmingly, even bowing slightly.

“My name is Draco Malfoy, and I’ll be auditioning for the role of Flynn Ryder,” he says in a loud voice, smirking in the way he saw Flynn do. “I know not who you are, nor how I came to find you, but may I just say... Hi. How ya doin'?”

Once he’s done with his audition, he’s met with claps and whoops from all over the room and he beams, bowing multiple times. He knows he did a good job, and he knows he’s going to get the role; after all, no one can do a better job than he just did. He’s going to be Flynn Ryder, and he never expected to want something like this as much as he does, but the excitement he feels thrumming through his veins is undeniable. He _wants_ to be Flynn Ryder.

“Hello, my name is Harry Potter and I’ll be auditioning for the role of Flynn Ryder.”

Draco feels as if a bucket of cold water has just been thrown down his shirt. He’d completely forgotten about Potter. He turns quickly and looks at Potter smiling beautifully on the stage and he feels his heart and throat clench. Potter might not be a better actor than he was, but he was more loveable than him, and if Flynn Ryder was something, it was loveable. 

Potter pulls out a badly done drawing of something that looks nothing like him and grimaces.

 “They just can't get my nose right!”

His voice is badly pitched and his body language is discordant with the scene, but Draco sees Mendoza’s eyes shine and knows he’s absolutely and utterly _fucked_.

 

* * *

 

Next Monday, the character list is posted on the bulletin board at the back of the class. Draco walks towards it nervously. He scans the list, ignoring everything but for Flynn Ryder’s name. 

_Flynn Ryder – Harry Potter_

Draco feels gutted. His stomach’s fallen out of his arse and his heart is pounding away furiously in his chest. He feels tears prick behind his eyes and he closes them, breathing harshly through his nose. He can’t believe the disappointment he feels, he didn’t know how much he’d wanted this until he didn’t have it, and now that he doesn’t have it, he feels dangerously close to having a tantrum.

 “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d get that role either.”

Draco opens his eyes again and turns to the side, confused. There’s a boy whose name he doesn’t know standing there next to him, staring at the list. Draco follows his line of sight, but all he can see is Potter’s name next to Flynn’s and nothing else matters.

“What does it matter what role I got?”

The boy turns to him, alarmed.

“You only got the most important role in the play! Granted, it’s unconventional but…” The boy points a finger to a spot on the list and Draco follows it with his eyes.

At first, he doesn’t understand what he’s reading; it makes no sense… How could he have gotten that role? He reads the black letters over and over until they swim around in his head and he’s feeling lightheaded.

"I’m- I’m- I’m-“ He stutters over and over, trying to get the words out. “ _I’m Rapunzel_?” 

No matter how many times he blinks, the letters are unchanging and mock him unrepentantly.

_Rapunzel – Draco Malfoy_

 

* * *

  

They start rehearsals right away, class temporarily pushed back in favor of the play. It’s Draco’s personal hell.

“Very good Mister Potter, that was marvelous!” Professor Mendoza whimpered from her seat, all but throwing herself at Harry’s feet. “I’m so glad I chose you as Flynn, you’re perfect as him!”

Draco tries very hard not to snort, but he can’t keep from crossing his arms and glaring at Potter. He doesn’t think Potter did a very good job at that scene, actually, and it had nothing to do with how much he hated Potter. He wasn’t a terribly bad actor, but Draco knows he could have done better than what Potter had done. He could tell the Boy Who Lived was trying, but it still seemed forced and faked from Draco’s side of things.

“Um… Thank you, Professor,” Potter smiles awkwardly. “Could we go on?”

The Professor nods quickly, and it almost looks like she nods so hard her head almost falls off. Potter turns back to Draco and looks confused at how aggressive Draco looks, but Draco doesn’t stop glaring for the life of him. When another student comes up to Professor Mendoza and distracts her, Draco sees his chance.

“That wasn’t even that good,” he says harshly, and Potter reels back as if slapped. “I would have done way better.”

“If you could have done better, you’d have been chosen for the role,” Potter returns aggressively, eyes flaring.

“The only reason why I wasn’t chosen was because that woman there is in love with you, not because you’re a better actor than I am!”

“Well, the role is still mine and _not_ yours. So suck it up, Malfoy, and be a good little princess.”

“Then act like you’re supposed to!”

“I am!”

“You’re not! You have the acting skills of a potato!”

“Now you’re a critic, are you? Perfect Malfoy is perfect at acting!”

“I am! I see exactly what you’re doing wrong!"

“Then tell me!”

“It’s _everything_!”

Draco suddenly realises that he and Potter are nose-to-nose, breathing harshly into each other’s mouths and eyes shooting flames at each other. He clears his throat and stands back, smacking his lips together. Potter’s eyes flick down to his lips quickly, but he seems to realise what’s happening almost at the same moment Draco does and he steps back too. Trying to calm down, Draco looks around the room. Everyone is looking at them. Draco gulps.

“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy… Is there a problem here?” Professor Mendoza asks – stupidly, in Draco’s opinion, as it’s obvious there’s a huge fucking problem here – and they both nod.

“It seems there’s a… Creative difference… Standing in the way of, you know, chemistry…  When acting...” Potter offers stiltedly as an explanation. Draco has to admit to himself that he’s impressed at Potter’s quick thinking, but Potter’s not going to know that. Ever.

“Well, you two have to work that out,” the blonde teacher says decisively. Draco feels fear grip his heart tightly, knowing that whatever comes out of the woman’s mouth next cannot be good. “So, you will… In detention until the day before the play. You two will come here every day and work on this ‘creative difference’ until you’re in synch.”

Draco had thought that when Voldemort had died, Potter had gotten rid of evil in the Wizarding World. He’d definitely gotten it wrong. Professor Agnes Mendoza was Voldemort reincarnated.

 

* * *

  

Draco wanted to die.

“Pansy, what am I going to do?” He moaned and whimpered, cuddling into her shoulder and letting her pat his head.

“Die,” she supplies cheerfully, one hand in his hair and the other serving up a plate of food for him. Once she’s done, she nudges him away. “Come on, eat. And if you really wanted to be all over me all the time, you shouldn’t have rejected me back in fifth year.”

Blaise smirked from the other side of the table, giving Draco a heated look that made him blush to the roots of his hair.

“It’s not his fault I’m more seductive than you are, Pansy.”

Draco doesn’t know what’s worse, the prospect of spending the rest of his evening with Potter or the prospect of spending the rest of his evening with his friends.

“You guys are horrible,” Draco mumbles to his plate. He pretends he doesn’t hear his friends laughing at him as he continues to grumble into his food.

“Oh, poor Drakey,” Pansy fake simpers at him, grabbing him by the chin, turning his face towards her, and pressing a kiss to his nose.

“Ew!” He pulled away, wiping his nose, which was scrunching up automatically. “You’re so gross Pansy!”

Pansy and Blaise laugh at him as he gets up and snootily turns his nose up at them. If he’d been wearing a scarf, or had really long hair, he’d have thrown it over his shoulder and walked away. However, since he owned neither of these things, he had to make do with having the last word.

“I have people to see and places to be,” he sniffs, “unlike you, plebeians. I hope you don’t miss me too much.”

He pretends he’s not smiling as he walks away, even if he doesn’t fool his friends. Not one bit.

 

* * *

 

Potter’s sitting on the floor when he enters the classroom, waiting for him.

“About time,” Potter grouses, but the tone of his voice isn’t angry at all, and Draco has no idea how to respond. He ends up freezing in the doorway until Potter stands up and walks to him, stopping right in front of Draco. There’s more than enough space between them for them to move comfortably, but Draco feels as if he can’t breathe with Potter standing so near.

He steps back slightly and feels a lot better, but there’s something about the look on Potter’s face after it that makes Draco think that he’s somehow hurt his feelings, although he has no idea how. Potter sighs and runs a hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to the floor before looking up at Draco again.

“Shall we begin, your Majesty?”

 

* * *

 

The first week of practicing with Potter is awful. All they do is fight about who’s right and who’s wrong, and Draco’s starting to think that Potter just does his best at disagreeing with him to rile him up with how ridiculous his arguments are. 

“No Potter, you cannot charm your hair blond too!”

“Why not?”

“Because Flynn’s hair is _not_ blonde.”

“So?”

“So. You. Cannot. Be. A  Blond.”

“Could I be a redhead?”

“I swear to Merlin Potter, you try to dye your hair any color and I will _kill_ you.”

They’ve been getting together for a week and a half when they’re so tired they don’t want to practice. They’re lying on the floor, head to head, too tired to pretend to be bothered at the slight brushing of hair against hair.

“Malfoy?” Potter suddenly asks, his sleepy voice making Draco smile at how cute it is.

“Yeah?”

“Why won’t you tell me what it is I’m doing wrong?”

There’s movement from Potter’s side of the floor, and Draco opens his eyes to find Potter’s upside-down face over his own.

“It’s just…” Draco trails off, not knowing how to continue.

“Yeah?” Potter nudges him softly with his elbow, bringing them closer together.

Everything’s soft and quiet, the atmosphere of the room is sleepy and fuzzy and Draco can’t stop the feeling that blooms in his chest that longs to curl up into Harry’s side and cuddle. He smiles softly, ruefully, at Potter, before closing his eyes again and moving slightly into Potter’s arm. Potter moves slowly until he’s lying down again, but his head is no longer against Draco’s, but instead is against his shoulder.

“It… Feels forced. You need to let go more,” Draco starts, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of Potter’s throat next to his cheek. “I know you could be an awesome Flynn, you’re actually a lot like him. But… You force it too much and it comes out feeling… Fake, y’know?”

Potter hums thoughtfully at his side, and suddenly Potter’s nose is pressing into the side of his neck. Draco’s breath catches in his throat, but it doesn’t feel overwhelming like last time. It’s as if the tiredness of the atmosphere has created a more intimate feeling, but also one that Draco is more comfortable with. Maybe it’s because, if anyone were to call him out on why he let Potter bury his nose into his neck, he’d say he was too tired to realise what was happening. He ignores the fact that he’s no longer as sleepy as he was five minutes earlier and the fact that his heart seems to have gone into overdrive and his stomach is fluttering nervously.

“I’ll work on that,” Potter breathes into his neck. Draco pretends he doesn’t shiver.

 

* * *

 

After that, it’s hard to pretend he still hates Potter. Somehow, having someone’s nose buried into your neck makes your opinion about them change quite a lot.

“Pansy,” he whispers at her late one night in the Slytherin Common Room after private Potter-Malfoy rehearsal. “I don’t hate him anymore.”

“Did you ever?” She answers, annoyingly obscure. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t… Hate him… Anymore…” He replies awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“Does he hate you?” She turns to him with a quizzical brow high on her forehead, and Draco wonders why he never thought of that before.

“I- I- I don’t know,” he replies, feeling stricken.

“Then you’d better find out then,” is all she says before she gets up, kisses his cheek and leaves for her dorm room.

 

* * *

 

“So! Hey can I ask you something? Is there any chance that I'm going to get super strength in my hand? Because I'm –“

“Potter,” Draco interrupts suddenly, making Potter look at him impatiently. All day, Draco has been tetchy and fidgety at best, snappy at worst. He’s never felt so unsettled by something so stupid, but the possibility that Potter hates him goes around and around in his head, making it hard to concentrate and making him feel like utter crap. He can’t believe that he feels this way, but he’s done with denying it to himself.

“Yes, Malfoy?” Potter grinds out through clenched teeth. “Is something the matter?”

“Call me Draco,” he says impulsively, running a hand through his hair without noticing. He’s never run hands through his hair before when he’s nervous, he must have picked it up from Potter, however, that’s not important right then. “I’d like for you to call me Draco."

Potter looks utterly flabbergasted; his jaw’s five inches from the floor and if his eyes got any wider, his eyeballs would be rolling around on the floor. Just when Draco’s beginning to think he made a big mistake, that he thought their relationship was more than it actually was; Potter closes his jaw and seems to shake himself out of it. 

“Ok,” he says softly, his eyes roving over Draco’s face in a way that makes him feel completely exposed. “But only if you call me Harry, Draco.”

Draco feels as if he’s been punched in the gut, he’s lost all the air that was in his lungs and he can’t manage to breathe more in. Harry. Harry. He’s allowed to call him Harry. And he’s called him Draco. And Draco thinks there should be other things that make him feel better than this – this irrelevant first name calling between two soon to be ex-enemies? – but he can’t imagine what could be more important than suddenly becoming Harry and Draco.

“In the auditions,” Draco suddenly remembers what he wanted to ask, and it slips out of his mouth without permission, but he can’t stop it, he ploughs on. “You… You said ‘there’s the Draco I know’… What did you mean by that?”

Harry starts and looks at him, panicked green eyes suddenly pinning Draco to the ground where he stands. Draco doesn’t understand what he’s done to elicit such a response from Harry, but there’s something about the way Harry’s looking at him that makes Draco think he hadn’t been meant to hear that.

“You heard,” Potter whispers, horrified, “you weren’t supposed to.”

Draco thinks that maybe he should stop here, let Potter get over his embarrassment and forget everything that’s happened. But something in him doesn’t want to let it go. So he pushes Harry into telling him, naturally.

“What did you mean by it?” He asks once.

“Harry, please tell me,” is the next thing he says.

“I promise no one will find out.”

“Harr-“ He’s stopped by Harry pushing a finger onto his lips and stepping into his personal space – something that doesn’t bother him that much anymore, unsurprisingly – again.

“I just meant,” Harry begins in a whisper, eyes looking anywhere that isn’t Draco, and Draco thrills at what this embarrassment implies. “That ever since the… The trial… You’ve been acting different,” Harry slumps slightly, but his finger stays on Draco’s mouth. “And… I missed… The real you.”

“The real me?” Draco whispers against Harry’s finger.

“The snarky, sarcastic, not at all passive you,” Harry finally looks up and into his eyes, and there’s this soft smile playing about with the corners of his lips that tugs on Draco’s heartstrings. “I thought we’d lost you forever, I see now that you were just… Hiding.”

“I-“ Draco’s interrupted by a pair of lips pressed onto his own. At first, he doesn’t realize, he’s still trying to talk. When he hears his voice, mumbled, and feels his lips being crushed, he realises Potter’s nose is bumping into his and his glasses are digging into his cheek. Just as he’s about to grab Potter back and snog the life out of him, Potter pulls back, looking horrified.

“I’m _so_ sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have done that,” Harry mutters to himself, pulling away and running his hands through his hair so hard and fast Draco was sure he’d go bald if he kept doing that. “I’m sorry Draco, I’m so sorry.”  
  
Draco doesn’t have time to reply before Harry’s getting up and running away, and before Draco knows it, he’s sitting alone on top of the stage with a broken heart to mend and a wounded ego to hide. Draco might not be the perfect Malfoy, an unfeeling, harsh bastard that does what’s ‘best for the family assets’. But if it’s one thing he’s learned after all these years it’s how to hide what he’s feeling, especially if he cares.

 

* * *

 

It’s been days since he last spoke to Harry, at least in a context out of the play. Harry’s getting better and better by day, while Draco only seems to worsen; forgetting his lines and cues and being so distracted somebody asked if he’d gotten Luna Lovegood to fill in for him this week. He tries not to take offense. Honestly, he’s not even sure he wants to talk to Harry, but not being able to do something has always made him want to do it; driven him, in fact. So of course Draco’s not giving up anytime soon.

“Potter, may I speak with you?”

“Potter, just a word, please."

“Look Potter, it’ll only take a second.”

“Harry, _please_.”

Harry doesn’t break. He runs from Draco any time Draco approaches him. He no longer shows up to Potter-Malfoy rehearsals. Harry no longer wants to be his friend, Draco has to accept that and move on… And he _would_ … If it didn’t hurt so damn much.

It’s the last Monday before Halloween, and they all know their lines so perfectly that Mendoza actually cried last Friday because they were so perfect. Now, they’re going to practice the music scenes. First scene up: Rapunzel and Flynn falling in love on the boat. Draco feels sick to his stomach, but he lets himself be guided into the small boat someone created for this scene exactly. Harry steps in gingerly. Suddenly, the music starts and Draco begins to sing.

“All those days watching from the windows,

All those years outside looking in,

All that time never even knowing,

Just how blind I've been…” 

He can’t look away from Harry as he sings, but he thinks Harry’s just as affected. They stare at each other throughout the song and, without realizing, they’ve gotten so close that when they’re finishing up, their noses bump together. Draco hits a high note more perfectly than ever before, having never been as breathless as he was then.

He leaned in; ready to press their lips together, when clapping broke their trance. With visible difficulty, Draco and Harry tore their gazes away from each other and turned to see everyone in the public clapping exuberantly.

“That was amazing!” Mendoza gushed, climbing onto the stage clumsily and running towards them and hugging them quickly. She pulled away and Draco noticed she had tears in her eyes, he wondered if she could be any weirder. “As long as you do that just like you did now in the play, I see no reason for us to continue practicing this song. Congratulations boys, you’re stunning together.”

 

* * *

 

The day of the play – Halloween night – Draco was forcibly reminded that he was playing a _woman_. He was wearing a pink and purple dress, no shoes, and had almost been choked by Professor Mendoza when she’d all but forced him to drink a max-strength hair-growth potion. His head felt incredibly heavy.

“Hello Malfoy,” he hears from behind him, and he turns around slowly to investigate who was talking to him. Earlier, he’d moved around as he usually did with his short hair and had almost broken his neck because of the hair’s weight, needless to say, he was being a lot more careful now.

“Granger,” he’s surprised, and it shows. Granger was speaking to him! Civilly! She was even smiling at him, and it didn’t even feel like she was laughing at him inside her head.

“Nice costume,” she comments, looking him up and down until finally meeting his eyes with her own. He notices the amusement sparkling in them, but it doesn’t feel mocking, so Draco doesn’t mind. He knows he looks a bit ridiculous.

“Yeah, well… I’m supposed to be a girl,” he shrugs, “even though I’m… Not.”

“Did you know that, in Shakespeare’s times, men played women’s roles too? Women weren’t allowed to be in plays, so men used to take their places; usually young men with still unchanged voices,” she tells him calmly, and Draco once again wonders how the hell Granger’s brain worked. How did she store all that information in there? Her head wasn’t even that big!

“Uh…”

“I’m just telling you so you don’t feel ridiculous,” Granger _winks_ at him, “you can just tell anyone who laughs that it’s a tradition.”

Draco smiles back brightly, finally noticing the point of her words. “Thank you!”

Granger nods at him graciously, and changes the subject.

“Have you seen Harry?” She asks, looking around and wringing her hands nervously. “I want to wish him luck.”

Draco looks at his hands, which are now gripping each other tightly. He doesn’t know where Harry is, but he’s sure he’s anywhere but where Draco is, considering that’s where he’s been the past few weeks. Draco doesn’t know how to get Harry to talk to him again, and it’s incredibly frustrating. Having been kissed by a man who obviously wants nothing more with him is playing games with his heart. He’d hoped and wanted and now, he was left alone once more.

“I- uh- I don’t _know_ ,” Draco says quietly, awkwardly, still not looking up from his hands. “If you help me move my hair, I could help you find him.”

Granger smiled at him and then looks around. Draco’s hair is everywhere, platinum blond strands covering the floor around him and shining like silver. She seems to grimace a bit, but she covers it up quickly and helps Draco begin to pile up his hair on his arms and then carries some in her own.

“Merlin,” Draco pants under the weight, “hair is heavy.”

“Yeah,” Granger agrees breathlessly, "it is.”

“Hermione?” They hear suddenly, and they whip around to see Potter standing there and looking utterly confused. “ _Draco_? What in Godric’s name is going on here?”

“Harry!” Granger chirps happily and lets all the hair she was holding fall. The weight of the hair makes Draco topple and fall, and the hair he was holding himself flies out of his hands and is suddenly everywhere. Draco splutters.

“Oh my!” He hears Granger exclaim, sound muffled by the hair. “Harry, help me!”

He feels the hair start to shift over and around him, until Harry finally finds his face. Harry looks appropriately worried, and Draco’s heart beats painfully in his chest.

“There you are,” Harry whispers, reaching out and touching Draco’s cheek so lightly he might as well have imagined the touch. “Come on, we’re getting you out of there.”

Harry slowly helps Draco out of the pile of hair, and Draco stumbles slightly at the last second and ends up with his face smushed up to Harry’s chest and with Harry’s arms around him. It takes him a considerable effort not to sigh happily. Harry pushes him away after a few seconds, and Draco wants to pout, but he conforms himself with glaring at his hair.

“I hate being Rapunzel,” he grumbles, kicking lightly at his hair. “It’s too much work.”

Granger laughs lightly and waves her wand, and Draco’s head suddenly feels ten times lighter. He turns to look at her with wide surprised eyes, and she shrugs as if it’s nothing.

“It’s a very useful spell for when you’re trying to move things around your room,” she says, as if that comment makes any sense, and then she pulls Harry into a hug. Draco hears her whisper something into Harry’s ear, but he can’t make out the words. He thought Granger and Weasley were a thing now, but maybe he was wrong and it’s actually Granger and _Harry_. His heart aches.

 

* * *

 

They’re halfway through the play and Draco feels high on adrenaline. Up till now, only one of the singing villains has forgotten his lines and Mother Gothel tripped once. All in all, Draco thinks they’re doing perfectly. It’s almost time for the boat scene, and Draco’s hair is braided at his back, he can feel it there, but it’s weightless and he knows he has to thank Granger later. He’d probably be dragging his head around the floor right now if she hadn’t helped him.

They’re actually floating in water right now, in a tiny lake someone built into the stage. _Honestly_ , Draco thinks, _it’s as if they think we’re a professional production_. He climbs into the boat, followed by Harry and his pet chameleon, which is actually a transfigured crup.

Just as the music’s about to start, Harry turns to him and meets his eyes. He hasn’t met his eyes since they kissed and Draco feels something heavy settle on his chest, Harry’s apparently very good at looking at people’s eyebrows. Harry smiles softly and Draco’s breath catches in his throat, he can barely catch enough breath to begin singing and his voice comes out higher pitched than he intended. Thank Salazar he’s a princess though, because it actually sounds good. 

“All those days watching from the windows,

All those years outside looking in,” he starts singing and he tries not to panic when he notices that Harry starts to lean closer. 

“All that time never even knowing,

Just how blind I've been,”

Harry grabs his hand and runs a hand over his knuckles, and Draco jerks closer, heart jumping to his throat, 

When it’s finally Harry’s turn to sing, Draco realises how close they actually are. Their foreheads are pressed together and their noses are brushing, and Harry’s all but singing into his mouth. Draco’s eyelashes flutter and then his eyes close, but they continue singing as if their lips aren’t brushing every few words and as if Draco doesn’t feel like he’s going to pee himself from the excitement.

Just as the song’s going to end, Harry pulls back slightly. Draco’s eyes open quickly and he panics, thinking maybe Harry was just playing the part. However, Harry’s eyes burn into his intensely, and his hands are squeezing Draco’s so tight it hurts; so Draco knows at that second that Harry is just as affected as he is.

“All at once, everything is different

Now that I see you,

Now that I see you!”

Harry crushes their lips together quickly at the last line, and pulls away just as quick. They weren’t supposed to kiss right then, it’s not in the script, but something about Harry’s eyes tells Draco that that kiss was for him, not for Rapunzel, and Draco can’t help but beam.

  

* * *

 

Later, when Draco’s hair is back to its normal length and he’s trying to pull himself out of his dress in the dressing room backstage, someone knocks at his door. Thinking it’s Pansy and Blaise – and considering the both of them have seen him more naked than he is now – he yells at them to come in.

He hears a strangled sound from the doorway, so he pulls the dress off quickly and turns around to see who it is. He hadn’t expected it to be Harry Potter standing there; clenching the door handle so tight his knuckles were white.

“Uh…” Draco says unintelligently, not realising he’s standing there almost naked in front of his crush. “Hi?”

“Draco,” Harry breathes, and Draco notices how his eyes burn. “I- uh-“

“Come here.”

Harry steps forward and closes the door, throwing a locking spell at it before dropping his wand and stepping up quickly to Draco, taking his face between his hands and pressing their lips together. Draco quickly responds to the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling them close together. It’s lips against lips and then there’s tongues there in the middle of everything and Draco feels like his chest’s going to explode with happiness and lust and maybe just a tiny bit of love for the man standing in front of him snogging his brains out.

“I was going to ask you,” Harry pants at some point when Draco’s sucking at a spot on his neck. Harry groans and Draco smiles.

“Yeah?”

Harry grabs onto Draco’s short hair and pulls him away so they can look each other in the eyes. Draco’s smiling dumbly but Harry is too so he doesn’t bother trying to hide it.

“Would you like to… Get dinner with me sometime?” Harry asks breathlessly.

“I’d love to,” Draco murmurs before pressing their lips together once more.

And maybe Draco had never wanted to be Rapunzel in a play, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining as long as Harry was his Flynn.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Any issues with the fic, please tell me so I can fix it :)
> 
> Also, if you liked the fic, I'd really appreciate it if you told me :) thank you!


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